Lust
by Blue Zombie
Summary: A good old fashioned Johnny and Dally slash with lots of angst!
1. Default Chapter

Dally…. 

He tried to pretend it didn't bother him, his father, and his father's attitude. His father didn't care if he was drunk in the gutter or dead in a car wreck, and it didn't bother him none.

But in the kitchen with the cheap table and the flimsy linoleum, the fading light coming through the faded curtains, his father's dead eyes, it bothered him.

Getting rip roaring drunk would help. It always did. So Dallas stared back at his father with his own dead eye stare and he flung the bottle off the table and heard it shatter as he left.

He walked with his purposeful stride toward the nearest honky tonk. He heard the thump of the music, once in his head and once in his chest as the last of the light faded from the sky.

"Whiskey on the rocks," he said at the bar and watched as the bartender splashed cheap whiskey over the ice cubes and thunked the drink down in front of him. He drank until melted ice cubes turned to water in his glass and then he ordered another one, and another one.

Johnny …

As Dallas was pretending he wasn't bothered by his father Johnny was holding in a scream as his father whipped him with the heavy leather belt that hung from a rusted nail in the kitchen. The silver buckle hit square in the small of his back and Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, clamped down hard on the scream that tried to rise out of him. Ponyboy thought he was tough because he wouldn't make a sound, but Ponyboy didn't know it was worse if he did.

Johnny also saw the light fading from the sky and coming in faded squares onto the kitchen floor.

As Dallas tried to pretend he didn't care Johnny wished like begging that the beating would end before he was bloody and unconscious on the kitchen floor.

As Dallas smashed the bottle in his kitchen Johnny's father threw the belt across the room where it slammed into the wall and thumped harmlessly to the floor.

"Ya worthless son of a bitch," he muttered at Johnny and left. Johnny let out his held breath and rubbed the sore spots, considered himself lucky because he was still standing.

Dallas…

He was seeing double and started to feel sick, but he was clutching the bar and looked sober enough, so when he ordered another drink he got it.

From the first sip he knew it would put him over the edge, and he could feel the headache spreading like water through his cells, could feel the room begin to spin in great swinging arcs and Dallas squeezed his eyes shut but it only made it worse, the world spun faster.

"Aw, fuck," he said as he headed for the door and felt minute relief from the cool night air, but the relief was short lived. He puked in a colorful splashing gust and grimaced from the taste of puke in his mouth, held onto the wall as his stomach cramped and he bent over, dry heaving because there was nothing left.

Johnny….

Johnny left his house as Dallas was arriving at the honky tonk, as the last of the light faded from the sky.

In the darkness it was okay to cry and Johnny did, the tears silently sliding down his cheeks.

He wiped the tears away with the rough sleeves of his jean jacket as he neared the Curtis house. That's where he liked to go when he was hurt, because someone always took care of him there.

No one was home, the door was open but no one was home and Johnny felt the disappointment like a whip with the belt and he shook his head, started walking away.

There was a fire and voices at the vacant lot and he passed it by, not up for seeing anyone not in the gang, not up for strangers' stares and questions.

He headed out toward the honky tonks, thinking he might find Dally or Two bit, and maybe they'd buy him a beer. He looked too young to buy them for himself. Shit, he could use a beer.

Dally…

He wasn't drunk in the gutter but it was close. He sat on the sidewalk, feeling the cold cement beneath him, thinking it might feel nice just to lie down, the cool cement beneath his cheek. So he did, the tips of his blond hair damp and dirty, the sand grains digging uncomfortably into his cheek.

"Dal?"

He sat up, peered way up to where the voice had come. Johnny.

"Dal? What ya doin'?"

He stood with difficulty and leaned against the wall at his back. The stars twinkled coldly from their places, but Dallas never noticed them. If he had looked at them now they'd be tiny white lines in his blurred vision. That's how they looked to Johnny because his old man had blackened one of his eyes and everything looked blurry, smeary, like a painting someone left out in the rain.

"Hey, uh, Johnny," He noticed Johnny's bruised appearance and felt something he'd felt before. Lust.


	2. chapter 2

Dally…… 

But he was drunk and it was easy to dismiss. So he liked how Johnny's jet black hair looked against his tan face, so what? Liked the full red lips, the large dark eyes, it didn't matter.

He felt the world slip and for a moment, blackness. So it wouldn't matter what he did tonight, he might not remember it tomorrow.

What would Johnny do if he grabbed him right now? He looked at him, sly, from the corner of his eyes.

"Hey, Dal, can you buy me a beer?"

Johnny….

Inside, the music and the smoke and the conversations hitting him all at once, Johnny stayed in Dallas' shadow, felt eyes crawling over him, male and female. People trying to catch his eye, he wouldn't look.

Dallas ordered the beer and slid it over to Johnny when the bartender turned, Johnny sipped it, felt it slide cool and sharp down his throat.

One beer relaxed him and another made start to feel good. And he noticed with a start how Dallas was looking at him, like he wanted to eat him.

So Johnny lit a cigarette and slouched against the bar, his hips thrust out a little. Licked his lips and looked up at Dal through his lashes.

Because of Johnny's wounded, dark good looks girls had been coming onto him for a long time, backing him into corners in the schoolyard, snaking their little hands down his pants. Kissing him, forcing him to kiss them.

And boys at the bathrooms of bars, smooth faced boys in their late teens and twenties, licking their lips and tugging on the buckle of his belt, kissing him rougher and stronger than the girls. So Johnny knew the look in Dally's eyes.

Dally…..

He kept buying Johnny beers because he wanted Johnny to be as drunk as he was, and pliable, fuckable.

Johnny was easy, he could tell by the way he batted his eyes and bit his lower lip. He just wanted to touch him, to feel Johnny's skin beneath his hands, his skin beneath his lips. Wanted to see how Johnny would react to his breath on the back of his neck. He wanted to watch Johnny's eyes slowly close and his breathing quicken, the harsh gasps that he wouldn't be able to help, and little moans of pleasure.

Johnny….

The beer made the cigarettes taste better, and he drank while Dallas didn't, but he could feel Dallas' eyes on him.

"C'mon, Johnny," Dally said, and lead him through the backroom, past the pool players, to the room beyond.

"Hey," Johnny said softly when Dally pushed up against him, Johnny's back to the wall.

"Yeah, hey," Dally said, and kissed him. He leaned one arm against the wall and pinned Johnny with the other one.

Dallas noticed how long his eyelashes were, like a girl's, but there was something so deliciously boyish about him, something…

Johnny watched him with his large, cautious eyes. Watched as Dallas slid his hand down from his chest to his stomach to the button on his jeans.


	3. chapter 3

Johnny let his head fall back and felt Dallas tug the zipper down, and he sucked in his breath. Johnny liked Dallas' blond hair and blue eyes, liked how pale he was and how tall, liked how Dally always knew what to do.

And then he closed his eyes when he felt the softness of Dallas' lips around it. And he moaned then, a guttural sound from deep in his throat.

Dally…

Somehow or other he made it home walking through the pink gold dawn, stepping over empty cigarette packs and bits of broken glass.

Into his house in the early morning stillness, the taste of Johnny still on his lips. He made it up to his room and laid on his bed and fell into an uncomfortable, dreamless sleep.

Johnny…

Johnny didn't leave when Dally did. He stayed there in the back room, up against the wall, breathing hard, coming down. He zipped up his pants and stumbled back into the bar. He saw the shadow of pink sky outside and yawned, he'd been up all night.

"Hey kid, you can't stay here," the bartender said. A couple of drunks were passed out at the tables, heads resting on their arms, snoring. Johnny raised his eyebrows questioningly at the bartender.

"Why?"

"Because we're closing. Ain't you got school?"

Johnny nodded and headed off toward school. Outside, on the way, he almost ran into Ponyboy.

"Hey man, you look awful," Ponyboy said. Johnny laughed.

"Thanks,"

"Sorry. Want a cigarette?" Johnny nodded and Ponyboy handed him one, "here you go,"

In school Johnny went from class to class, so tired he couldn't see straight. In every class he started to fall asleep, his chin falling to his chest. In science class his teacher slammed his hand down on Johnny's desk, making him jump.

"What?"

"Wake up,"

In English his teacher slapped the back of his head.

"Mr. Cade!" she said, peering at him through the cat's eye glasses.

"Huh?"

"There is no sleeping in my class,"

At lunch Two bit nudged him.

"Hey Johnny, that girl's staring at ya," He glanced over and saw her, a cute little freshman. After school she cornered him.

"Hi," she said, sweet little voice.

"Hi,"

"I'm Cindy,"

Johnny looked around quick. Where was everyone? She walked toward him and he walked back until he was up against the hard brick of the school building.

"Here," she said, and pressed a little scrap of paper into his hand. Then she walked away. He watched her go, watched her get smaller in the distance, and looked at the paper she gave him. A phone number and a heart above the ".i" in Cindy.

"What's that?"

"Huh?" he had jumped a little at Ponyboy seeming to materialize beside him. The paper with the phone number was in the palm of his hand and Ponyboy snatched it up.

"Cindy? Who's this girl?"

Johnny shrugged.

"Some freshman. I don't know,"

He walked home with Pony, planning on crashing on his couch. He was now so tired the world seemed a little shimmery around the edges, and his thoughts had taken on a strange spin.

"Wanna play football or something?" Ponyboy said when they got to his house. He tossed his books on the table.

"No, I can't. I'm so tired. I didn't sleep at all last night," Johnny laid on the couch, his eyes closing, starting to dream before his head hit the pillow.


	4. chapter 4

Johnny… 

He didn't know what time it was or even where he was. He just knew it was late and that someone was touching him.

Idly a finger ran up his arm, touched his neck, his chest over his shirt. Johnny opened his eyes.

He was in the Curtis' living room and it was dark, he'd slept all day after school and now he felt stunned, tired, like a vampire.

The light in the room was from the T.V., flickery and kind of eerie. Johnny lay stretched out on the couch, fully dressed, even his sneakers were still on. Dallas was touching him, and he could tell by his eyes that he was drunk.

"Hey, kid," Dallas said when Johnny's gaze rested on him.

"Hey," His voice was husky from sleep, and he wanted a cigarette, and started to sit up.

"Where ya going?" Dally said, pushing him back down. Johnny stared at him as he climbed on top of him, straddled him, and leaned down to kiss him.

Dally…

He awoke as Johnny was going to sleep, the sun already high, starting to arc down, the light a faded gold.

The house was quiet. Maybe his old man was out. He hoped so. He pulled on his leather jacket and went outside, saw the lengthening shadows.

His hair was white blond, so blond it seemed to glow when the light touched it, and that's how it looked as he leaned against a streetlight smoking a cigarette.

He figured Johnny went to school. He would go to school to avoid his house even though he hated school. Dally smiled, the wolf grin, thinking about Johnny.

It got dark, the single red line of sunset getting absorbed into the night, and he headed toward the Curtis house, and the lot, and Johnny's house. He'd find him somewhere.

The lot was empty, cold ashes from last night's fire, cold wind whipping at the trees, at his face.

Johnny's house, dark even with the yellow glow of lights inside. He knocked.

Johnny's dad, he kind of looked like Johnny but his hair was lighter and his eyes were blue or maybe green. He wasn't drunk but he was getting there, he held a can of beer in one fist.

"Johnny ain't here," he said quick, and swung the door shut. He sounded like he really didn't give a hang where Johnny was.

"Okay," Dally said to the closed door, and headed up the street to Ponyboy's house.

He saw the flickery bluish light of the T.V. from outside, and he saw that the truck was gone. He pushed on the door and it opened, and he saw Johnny sleeping on the couch, laying on his back. His chest rose and fell slightly and his eyes moved beneath his lids.

Dallas felt the desire twisting his stomach as he looked at Johnny sleeping, so vulnerable. He ran his tongue slowly over his top teeth.

He went over to the couch, stood over him. Johnny didn't stir. His breathing was deep and even. His bangs covered his forehead, covered his eyebrows. Dallas brushed them back and Johnny moved, didn't wake up but stirred, shifted position. Dal dropped onto his knees, breathed in as Johnny breathed out. He was so beautiful. He touched Johnny's arm with one finger, his skin smooth, soft. He ran his finger up his arm, to his neck, his chest. Johnny opened his eyes and in this dim light they looked darker, black, as black as his hair.

"Hey, kid,"


	5. chapter 5

Johnny… 

Mostly he closed his eyes when someone kissed him, male or female. If it's a girl, and she's kissing him so soft, he might put his hands on the back of her head, feel her hair. Boys kiss harder, rougher, and he'll just put his hands down flat on the bed or against the wall.

That's what he was doing now. Both hands were palm down on the couch and he flicked his tongue against Dally's, thrust his hips up at him, worried about the Curtis boys coming home, the worry like a little twist in his stomach.

Dal kissed him and twisted the button of his jeans, pushed up his tee shirt and yanked down the jeans and Johnny felt the little twist of worry turn to panic when he saw the car lights flood the living room.

"Shit, Dally," he pushed Dal off and pulled up his jeans, "they're home!"

Dally kind of smiled as Johnny zipped up his jeans, tried to breathe normally but his breath was coming in smothered little gasps.

By the time Soda and Darry had come in Dal was drinking a beer, leaning against the kitchen counter. Johnny was sitting up on the couch gazing at the T.V.

"Hey, y'all," Soda said, grinning his movie star grin. He grabbed Johnny in a playful headlock and Johnny leaned into him, overwhelmed by the sickly sweet scent of Soda's cologne.

Dally…

Dally watched Soda and Darry come in with his impassive gaze, watched them tousle Johnny's hair and play fight with him. No one dared play fight with Dallas, too often it became real.

"Where's Ponyboy?" Darry said, the sharp line of worry creasing his brow. Johnny shrugged.

"Dallas, you seen 'im?"

"Nope,"

Darry scowled and Soda looked uneasy.

"Don't worry, Darry. We'll find him," Dallas said, tugging on Johnny's sleeve, making Johnny stumble after him into the dark.

At the tree at the edge of the lot Dally stopped, pushed up against Johnny and kissed him, slow and soft, and Johnny moaned. He didn't know what it was about this boy with his jet black hair and tanned skin, like he was always in the sun.

Johnny…

Johnny let himself be kissed, liked it, liked being swept along in the force of Dally's personality. He liked the dim glow of his blond hair from streetlights or moonlight, the rough feel of Dally's hands as they touched him through his clothes.

And suddenly Dally stopped kissing him, leaving Johnny to stare at him through half closed eyelids, his breath coming in ragged little gasps. And he started to almost get mad, feeling toyed with. He took out a cigarette and lit it, looked sideways at Dally through the smoke.

"Where's Pony, anyhow?" Dally said, lighting a cigarette of his own, shifting uncomfortably against his erection. He wanted to fuck Johnny right now, just tear at his clothes and take him, quick thrusts, over and over.


	6. chapter 6

Dally… 

Johnny was looking down, pulling away.

"Look, Dal, I gotta go. Pony's probably at the movies, it's the only place he goes, hardly,"

He was gone, quick. Dally watched him go, watched how he got smaller in the distance.

Dallas blinked, wondered at the sense of unease he had as he watched Johnny go.

He wasn't worried about Pony. Johnny was probably right. He was just at the movies, and if he ended up getting jumped by the socs it might teach him a lesson.

Johnny…

Don't be home, don't be home, over and over, a litany in his head. His prayer. Don't be home.

His house was dark when he approached it, and quiet, and maybe he was in luck.

His mother was home, and she looked at him with her blank eyes, barely acknowledged him. He ducked his head and tried to be invisible. At least she didn't hit him. But she ignored him.

He knew his father was home when the door slammed and he cursed himself for coming home. Why does he ever think it'll be any different?

His parents' voices raised against each other, and he almost covers his ears like he did when he was little. Just a matter of time before he hears his name.

"Johnny! Goddamnit!"

Johnny goes to his father, no escape, no escape. He blocks the door.

It is always something they think he did, or didn't do, and Johnny has given up trying to figure it out. He can't win. He knows it now.

He tenses up before the first blow, and the belt slides easily from its loops, one end wrapped in his father's fist. The buckle swings through the air and hits him again and again. He screams, he can't help it. He cries, too. Both things he didn't want to do.

"Fuck you," Johnny says under his breath. His father is gone now, in the other room or back to a bar, Johnny doesn't care.

Outside again, the cool night air feels almost good against his battered skin. Soothing.

He sees the fire crackling at the lot and heads over, doesn't care who's there. He just has to be away from his house.

"Hey, Johnny," It's Ponyboy, and he winces when Johnny gets closer.

"That bad, huh?" Johnny says, touching his lip, tasting blood.

"It's pretty bad,"

They go to Pony's house, and Darry notices that Johnny's hurt and Pony's not. He feels a sharp pang of guilt for feeling relief at first. Pony was fine.

Dally….

Another bar, this one on the edge of town. A willowy blond waitress keeps giving him the eye. And the beer is going down nice and easy.

Outside, the waitress leans against the building, one knee up. Dallas is drunk, but not as drunk as before. It is just the gentle buzz of beer and he notices the girl's red lipstick, red fingernails, veins beneath her pale skin. He touches her face.

She looks at him with glassy desire and he feels pulled toward her, likes the slender curve of her neck, the swell of her breasts. Leans in and kisses her hard.

And wishes this blond little waif would disappear, and he could be with Johnny. Johnny overwhelms him in a way girls can't.


	7. chapter 7

Dally… 

"C'mon," she breathes the word and leads him down the alley. Everything is slick with the rain and Dallas pushes his hand roughly up her skirt, kisses and bites at her lips. She tilts her head back, moans, and puts both her hands on the back of his head.

Afterward he leaves her there, walks quickly back to the neighborhood. He isn't drunk, just pleasantly high, and he'd rather see Johnny than some trampy girl.

He has no idea what time it is but the sky is black and the streetlights shimmer through the haze of rain and Dallas' boots click on the pavement as he hurries, as he imagines tasting Johnny, his sweet dark taste, and the desire shows on his face as grim determination.

The lot is empty, the fire extinguished by the rain. Dallas feels the sharp disappointment like something twisting in his cells.

The Curtis house is dark, silent, but always the front door is unlocked and he pushes it open. At first he can't see a thing and the outlines of furniture becomes clear as his eyes adjust. And he hears breathing, sees the outline of a figure on the couch.

He comes closer, by the light from the window he can see it is Johnny, sleeping on his back in his clothes.

"Johnny," Dallas says softly, and touches his shoulder. Johnny jerks away, instantly awake, and his breathing is as fast and shallow as an animal.

"Hey, kid, it's just me," Dallas says, and Johnny's breathing gradually slows, even out. He's sitting up and rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands.

"Sorry, Dal," he says, his voice still sleepy, "thought you were my old man,"

He turns on the little lamp and draws in a sharp breath. Johnny is cut and bruised, one eye nearly swollen shut.

"Oh God," Dallas says, and drops on his knees in front of the couch, in front of Johnny. Johnny just looks at him.

Slowly, gently, he brushes Johnny's bangs away from his face, kisses his lips. His eyes are open and so are Johnny's and Dallas nearly can't stand it, the intimacy of the locked gaze, the slow, soft kisses.

He touches Johnny's shoulders, his arms, his back, all with a slow and steady motion. Sometimes Johnny winces if Dallas touches a place where he's hurt.

The quiet house, the Curtis brothers asleep in the bedrooms, Johnny's breathing quickening and not from fear this time.

Johnny…

He likes how Dally touches him, likes how his eyes are such a light blue, such a color he could never believe.

But it hurts because he hurts, his whole body, and there is hardly anywhere Dallas can touch him that isn't hurt.

He lays back, lets Dal straddle him, hold his wrists with strong but gentle pressure and kisses him again, harder this time, and Johnny tastes the beer and the cigarettes, and a taste like red licorice.

He thrusts his hips, tries to free himself from Dally's grasp, and almost like it when Dal's grip tightens and the kisses become rougher and he twists and Dallas smiles, his wicked wolf grin and he's hurting his wrists and Johnny winces, closes his eyes in pain.


	8. Chapter 8

Dally… 

Johnny arched his back and Dally pressed his wrists into the couch.

"Dal…" Johnny's breathless little voice makes Dallas shiver and he leans over him, kisses him hard. A car drives by, momentarily washing the room in bright light and Dallas sees the dried blood on Johnny's face, the black eye that's swollen and bruised. Then darkness again, and he feels and senses Johnny more than sees him, and thrusts his hips against him. Johnny twists each wrist in Dallas' grasp and moans, whispers, "Dally, let me up,"

Johnny…

The evil grin, his blue eyes lighting into him, and Johnny just struggles for the fun. He knows Dallas does what he wants when he wants.

But he's so sore from that beating, and Dallas' weight hurts something, there is a sharp pain every time he breathes.

"Ah, shit, Dal, I'm sorry…" He makes him get up and Dallas' hunger turns to concern as Johnny holds his side, squeezes his eyes shut at a stabbing pain.

He hates hospitals, hates them, but it feels like someone is killing him every time he takes a breath.

"Dally…I think…" Closes his eyes again and thinks the swears in his head, shit fuck shit fuck that fucking hurts, "I think I should go to the hospital,"

Dally…

So they go, borrowing Darry's car. It's nearly dawn, the sky getting lighter by degrees, and Johnny leans against the car door, his cheek against the glass. He takes quick shallow breaths and it still hurts.

Dallas clenches his teeth, glances at Johnny, wonders if his father broke one of his ribs, wonders if he could kill Johnny's father and get away with it.

He pulls in the back by the emergency room. Johnny walks slowly, a few steps behind Dallas.

Inside they both wrinkle their noses at the hospital smell. Lysol, blood, alcohol. Florescent lights buzz in bars overhead, make everything over bright, unreal.

In the waiting room Dallas pretends to read as he listens to Johnny lie to the nurse.

"It was a, a fight, I got in a fight and…it really hurts when I breathe,"

And they take him in and Dallas stares at the words on the page, he can't make sense of it.

Johnny…

Swallowing his fear of hospitals, of doctors hurting him, he followed the nurse into a back exam room. She lifted his shirt, listened to his lungs with the cold circle of the stethoscope pressed against his back. The equipment at hospitals makes him uneasy, not sure exactly what it is for.

Waiting for the doctor he heard footsteps and the door opened. He looked up, dark suspicious eyes.

"Oh, Dal, hey…"

Dallas had snuck back, hid his concern behind a tough, blank stare.

"You seen the doctor yet?"

Johnny shook his head.

"Listen, you'll be fine, you'll be okay,"

Johnny looked vulnerable sitting on the exam table, he looked tired from the pain.

Dallas glanced around, making sure they were alone. He came near Johnny, put his hand on the back of his neck and leaned in, kissed him softly, a small taste. Johnny's eyes closed slowly and he tilted his head back, opened his mouth. Dallas explored with his tongue, feeling his tongue, his teeth, tasting blood.


	9. Chapter 9

Dally… 

Back in the waiting room, flipping through magazines that were months, sometimes years old, he closed his eyes against the headache that had started to pulse behind his eyes.

He felt always in control, above things in a certain way. He flipped the pages of the magazine fast, barely registering the fake smiles on the people hawking soap or new houses or cars. He was always in control except when it concerned Johnny.

"That fucking kid…" he muttered, one hand curling into a fist. But who did he want to hit? Johnny's father or himself?

He considered calling Darry because Darry was the only solid, sensible person he knew. But what could Darry do? Take the worry from his head?

The headache was pounding and he looked out the window, the sun flashing off the cars hurting his eyes. Shut the magazine and noticed the date in the corner, June 1959.

Johnny…

He felt okay except when he breathed in and felt the sharp pain. He laid on the exam table and waited for the doctor. Beneath him was a white paper, a disposable sheet. It rustled every time he moved, which he did often, he couldn't get comfortable.

The doctor came in and looked just like he thought a doctor would. Older, gray and white hair, glasses, calm, intelligent eyes.

"Hello, Johnny," he said, glancing at a paper he held.

"Hi," Johnny said, and winced. His ribs were broken, he knew it.

"You were in a fight?" Johnny didn't know if the doctor doubted this story or if he just thought that he did, but he found it hard to lie to him. Like lying to God somehow.

"Yeah, a fight," He supposed it was true, in a way.

The doctor sent him for x rays, which meant more waiting, and Johnny thought of leaving.

But the x ray happened quicker than he thought it would, and the girl who took the x ray was young, maybe 19 or 20, and pretty. Sparkly blue eyes and long hair that hung straight and smooth down her back. She smiled at him like she thought he was cute.

Dally…

Change of shift time, and he watched the day shift come in with crisp uniforms and styrofoam cups of coffee, watched the night shift leave in rumpled clothes. Both shifts eyed him suspiciously as he leaned against the building smoking a cigarette.

He squinted at them as they went by, winked at the young girls, stared hungrily after the boys. Took deep drags of the cigarette and blew it out slow, felt calmer. Took a deep breath and went in to find Johnny.

Johnny…

Waiting back in the first exam room, the white paper sheet rustling again as he shifted, tried to lessen the pain.

He saw the florescent panels on the wall where they look at the x rays, and he saw his, his insides a smudgy black and off white. He saw the doctor narrow his eyes at it and turn it this way and that.

"Hey, kid,"

"Dal," Johnny looked up, startled.

"What's going on?"

"Just waiting," He swung his legs back and forth like a kid and Dally smiled a little, wanted to touch him but thought someone was about to come in.

"Johnny," The doctor, who glanced at Dallas and seemed to dismiss him, focused on Johnny, "I'm afraid we have to admit you,"

"Why?" Johnny's voice was flat, and his expression bleak. He'd wanted a quick fix, some pain pills or something.

"Your ribs are broken and it caused injury to one of your lungs…that's why you're in so much pain,"

"Aw, fuck," Johnny said, then looked up guiltily at the doctor.

"Sorry," he mumbled, and shifted his weight again, trying to get comfortable.

"It's okay," the doctor said and patted his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

Dally… 

After Johnny was more or less settled, doped up, and awaiting the insertion of an ominous sounding chest tube, his eyes round with fear and not responding well to the doctor's assurances that it wouldn't hurt much, and soon he'd be okay. After that Dallas left because hospitals made him crazy, the smell that got in his nose and wouldn't get out.

Outside, early morning sunshine hurt his eyes and he squinted, looked back at the hospital, the brick and the windows blank, indifferent to the pain and death inside.

Head down he hurried to the car, and the windows reflected the blue sky.

Johnny…

They gave him something, some drug, and he felt better even though he still couldn't breathe right. But whatever the drug was it was better than alcohol, and he kind of felt like he was floating, and his thoughts were slow and fluid, dripping like syrup.

He knew Dal had left but he also knew he'd be back, so that was okay. He was aware, in a dim and drugged way, that the nurse and the doctor were busy, working in that unhurried but steady rhythm.

They had supplies, medical tools that gleamed, cold and sterile. Johnny gazed over at the tray that held silver scalpels, the thick black thread of sutures, tiny razor sharp scissors, thin latex gloves all on a crisp blue paper. The nurse drew up a solution in a syringe and whatever it was glistened on the edge of the long needle. Johnny closed his eyes.

Dally…

He parked at an angle to the curb and hopped out, boots clicking on the road.

The Curtis' were all home, finishing up breakfast. Dally leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette.

Soda lounged shirtless on the couch, dressed only in a pair of faded levi's. His hair was wet and hung straight, a dark gold.

Ponyboy chewed on toast at the table and watched Dallas smoke. Darry wasn't anywhere he could see.

"Johnny's in the hospital," Dallas said, grounding out the cigarette on the heel of his boot, dropping it into the ashtray.

Darry came out of the bedroom tucking in his black tee shirt and nodded at Dallas, threw a shirt at Soda.

"There you go. I ironed," Darry said. Soda shrugged into the shirt. Ponyboy dropped the toast.

"What? Why?" Ponyboy said, the concern sharp on his face.

"His old man, he broke his ribs and punctured his lung,"

Ponyboy's mouth dropped open and his expression was somewhere between surprise and anger.

Johnny…

He was annoyed. He hated hospitals, the drab rooms that were always too hot, nurses and doctors always coming in poking and prodding him, the weird smells of mass produced food and cleaning solutions. And if people came to visit they never stayed long, finding some excuse to leave.

He'd had to lean over a table while the doctor inserted the chest tube and it hadn't hurt, just a strange pressure, then they brought him up to a room, took vital signs, listened to his lungs with the stethoscope for like the hundredth time. The nurse brought him some ginger ale and crackers which sat untouched on the table beside his bed.

Now the drug was wearing off and boredom was setting in. He'd been afraid to ask how long he'd have to stay here, afraid the answer wouldn't be that he could leave tomorrow.

This was a double room and his room mate looked to be about his father's age, one leg covered in a white plaster cast. He had been sleeping but he was waking up, blinking slow, and focused his eyes on Johnny.

Dally…

He'd promised the Curtis brothers he'd catch up with them at the hospital, that there was something he had to do first.

That something was confronting Johnny's old man. Watching all the pain he put Johnny through, all the physical and mental anguish, he'd about had it. It was time to put that son of a bitch in his place.

He went up to the house and pounded on the door, his eyes narrowed to murderous slits.

The door swung open and Johnny's father stood there, a calm look on his face that barely covered anger.

He was young, still in his teens when Johnny was born. He woke up every day with a splitting headache and the shakes, symptoms a shot of brandy quickly put right. Every day he fought with someone, the boss at the new job that was firing him, some drunk shooting off his mouth at a bar, his wife nagging and complaining about something, or his son.

He glanced down at Dallas and maybe some of Johnny's fear of this man had rubbed off on him, because Dallas doubted, for the first time, his ability to take someone down.


	11. Chapter 11

Dally… 

"Yeah?" Johnny's old man said, and his voice was eerily like Johnny's. The same pitch. Somehow this spooked Dallas but he looked him square in the eye.

"You son of a bitch," Dallas said, and brought his fist back, the elbow high, and slammed it into his face. Johnny's old man staggered and fell back. He looked up at Dallas from the floor, surprise darkening to anger, and Dallas saw what Johnny usually saw. The angry mullish expression, gritted teeth. He started to get up and Dallas knocked him back, stood over him with a menacing look.

"That's a taste of your own fucking medicine," Dallas said.

Three days later Johnny was out of the hospital. He was waiting in the lobby for someone to show up, and Dal finally did.

"They let you out, huh?"

Johnny nodded, and took the cigarette Dally handed to him.

"Sure you should smoke?" Dal said, eyeing the cigarette critically. Johnny lit it and shrugged. Took a drag.

"Don't hurt none. Shit, I needed that cigarette,"

They headed out, and Dally watched him from the corner of his eye. Boyish but almost delicate at the same time, the androgyny of Johnny's looks drove Dally crazy. He had to bite his bottom lip to keep some of the desire off his face.

Johnny…

It was always like this, sooner or later. Sooner or later there was no where to go but home.

He'd been hanging out with Ponyboy, sitting on the porch and smoking, watching Soda and Steve play some mutated form of football that seemed to consist mostly of tackles.

"Ponyboy, you got homework," Darry said, sticking his head out the door and then going back in. Ponyboy rose obediently and headed for the door.

"Want to come in?" he said, and Johnny shrugged.

"Naw, I guess not,"

"Alright,"

So Pony went in and he stood up, feeling the bones in his spine stretch, feeling his dread of going home. But sometimes there wasn't anyplace else to go.

"Aw, fuck it," Johnny muttered under his breath, and noticed how dark the sky was getting. But it wasn't dark yet. He could still see the black outlines of trees and houses against the dark blue sky.

He started toward home, kicking at the little rocks on the sidewalk and the broken bits of glass. He stopped walking halfway between Ponyboy's house and his, took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. He'd smoked most of it standing in the same spot and then he chucked it, watched the little spray of embers as it landed in the road.

He was nearly to his house when someone came from behind and grabbed him. Johnny spun around, eyes wide, breathing fast.

"Jesus Christ, Dallas! You trying to give me a heart attack or what? I just got out of the fucking hospital,"

"C'mon, Johnny, you're not thinking of going home, are you?"

Johnny ducked his head, looked up at Dallas from under his dark bangs.

"Yeah, maybe,"

"Well, I wouldn't if I was you," Dallas said, and grabbed Johnny's arm, pulled him off the sidewalk and behind a tree.

It was completely dark now. The street lights glowed orange, T.V.'s flickered blue light in people's living rooms.

"Okay, so just…" Dallas' voice was thicker, lower, and he moved closer to Johnny, "don't go home, okay?"

"Okay," Johnny said, but petulant, whiny, like a kid, that Dallas had to smile.

"Good," he said, and backed Johnny up against the tree, leaned toward him, kissed him hard.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's note: Oh my dears I'm sorry this update took so long…but I was sans computer for a long while. Never to worry, my computer is back and updates will be MUCH quicker. All my love, the Zombie.

Johnny…

He felt Dallas' strong tongue in his mouth, his head tilted back hard. Felt Dallas' hands on his back. He moaned and Dally kissed him harder. He stopped and Johnny still leaned against the tree, a little smile on his face.

"Well, if I ain't gonna go home where should we go?"

Dally appeared to think about it for a minute, scratched his chin, the blond stubble rough like sandpaper.

"I don't know. A bar, I guess,"

They headed over to one, the moonlight falling between the trees, the sounds of their shoes against the sidewalk loud in the still air. Cars would occasionally drive by, ruffling their hair in the slipstream.

The bar was made of pine that still had the sap on it, and all it could boast was four walls and a roof over the patrons heads. The minute Dally opened the door all they could hear was the twang of redneck country music. Smoke filled the air in layers, and the babble of conversation floated between the soft gray smoke. Johnny lit up a cigarette and Dally took the one from behind his ear and lit that.

"Go and order us some beers, Dal," Johnny said.

Dallas went up to the bar and Johnny watched him, watched the way his muscles moved under his clothes, the way his hair looked under the lights, how he squinted his blue eyes against the glare and the smoke.

"Here," Dallas said, setting the full glass of beer down hard in front of Johnny. Johnny looked at it with mixed emotions. He didn't like the smell because his old man smelled like that when he whipped him. He didn't like the smell but he didn't mind the taste, and he liked the feeling of not having to worry so damn much about everything after he'd had a few. And if he ended up to be an alcoholic just like his old man then so what. How could he avoid it anyhow?

"Thanks," Johnny said, and gulped down half of it in one swallow.

Dally…

He eyed Johnny, watched him guzzle the beer. Good. He liked it when Johnny was drunk, when his reflexes were slowed. When he could do what he wanted to do to him. Dallas licked his lips, picked up his own glass of beer and sipped it.

When Johnny's beer was done he went and got him another. Johnny smiled that vulnerable sweet smile and Dallas wanted to fuck him right there, right on the bar under the smoke and in the light. His eyes glittered with this desire but Johnny pretended not to notice. He didn't drink this second beer as fast.

Smoking outside, the layers of smoke and conversation and twangy music getting to be too much, Dallas noticed that Johnny wasn't walking straight. He smiled at that. And he was slurring his speech, the syllables soft now and blending together.

Nowhere to crash, nowhere to go. They walked along and ended up in the room above the bar at old Buck Merril's place. Johnny stood near the window and smoked, blew the smoke out into the night air. Dallas lay on the bed, his shirt crumbled into a ball on the floor.

"Johnny," he said softly, and Johnny looked at him, the last hint of the black eye starting to fade.

"Yeah?"

"Come here,"

Johnny pitched the end of the cigarette out the window and watched the little orange tip high arc out into the street.

Johnny…

He watched the cigarette roll a little ways and then he turned to Dallas who was laying shirtless on the bed. He felt almost drunk enough to feel sick but not quite. He liked how Dallas' hair looked, all shiny white blond like that.

"Okay," he said, his voice thick and scratchy. He went over and laid next to him, laid back and closed his eyes, felt the room start to spin. He felt Dally touching his chest and stomach through his shirt, felt him tug on the button to his jeans. Johnny moaned as he felt Dal slide his jeans past his hips and off, and he heard them land on the floor.


	13. Chapter 13

Morning comes fast, and Dally looked at the sleeping figure next to him. He'd never known anyone who could sleep like Johnny. Jesus, Johnny could sleep anywhere. Outside, curled up into a ball, freezing. On anyone's couch or floor, any bed. If he didn't have a blanket he'd use his jean jacket as one, bringing his knees up toward his chin. Street urchin.

Dallas himself always woke up early, never able to sleep much past dawn. He'd always been that way. Had trouble getting to sleep, woke up early. But it was kinda nice to watch people sleep, to listen to the silence for once.

He touched Johnny's hair, felt the grease beneath his fingers. Johnny didn't stir. Just kept breathing deep and easy. He looked worried even in his sleep and Dal smiled a little half smile, touched his cheek. Johnny pulled away.

The breeze from outside came in through the window, through the screen all rusted with age. The bed they were on sagged in the middle and Dallas could feel the springs digging into his back. Listened to the rhythm of Johnny's breathing. Kid could sleep all day if you let him.

It must have been around noon when he finally woke up, blinking slowly, his voice scratchy. Dal smiled wide at him, lit a cigarette near the window and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth.

"Hey, Dal, can I have one?" Johnny said, sitting up, looking to be slightly in pain just having to wake up.

"Sure. Here you go, kid,"

Johnny caught it in one smooth motion, and Dally noticed that he wasn't as clumsy when he wasn't thinking about it. He dug his lighter from his jeans' pocket and shook it, frowned at the low level of lighter fluid. There was just enough for that cigarette. He'd take a drag on his cigarette, glance at Dallas and then look down. It drove Dallas crazy. Closed his eyes for longer than a blink.

A knock at the door made them both jump, and Dally swore under his breath. The door opened a crack and Ponyboy stuck his head in the room.

"Jesus, Ponyboy, why ain't you at school?" Dallas said, looking at him sharp.

"It was a half day, and anyway, I was just bored. There ain't nothing to really do, you know?" He came in, his reddish brown hair falling perfect around his face, like Soda's. Kid was pretty handsome, although he didn't know it. Johnny looked at him with the hidden envy that he always had. He envied everything about Ponyboy, his intelligence, his brothers, the parents he had had, everything.

Dallas didn't waste his time envying anybody. It didn't make sense. Life was like a poker hand you were dealt. You either got all kings and queens and aces or you didn't. But he could do more with a pair of twos than anybody would suspect.

With Ponyboy here, smoking, talking to Johnny about some school stuff that was just beyond him, Dally felt the dynamic change. Felt the secrecy that was necessary rebuilding itself, even around a 14 year old punk kid.

"Look, I gotta take off. I'll see ya later," Dally said, and tried not to envy the relationship that Pony and Johnny had. After all, he didn't envy anybody nothing. Nothing at all.

Johnny watched him go, not minding all that much. He'd be back. He turned back to Pony talking about something to do with school, with the girl in his biology class, with this teacher and that one and Johnny wasn't exactly following along all that well. But he'd nod and say yeah when it seemed appropriate.

"So you were in the hospital, huh?" Pony said out of the blue, catching Johnny off guard.

"Uh, yeah,"

"What happened? Your dad?" Johnny narrowed his eyes at him, wondering exactly how it was that he could be so smart and so stupid at the same time.

"Yeah, but it's fine, I mean, I'm fine, so don't worry about it,"

Pony nodded, and watched as Johnny lit a cigarette, his black bangs falling over his forehead, obscuring his eyes. He pushed back his own lightly greased reddish hair and lit another cigarette. Pony tended to smoke like a fiend anyway, but it was worse around Johnny, who was almost as bad.

Johnny didn't consider that in Ponyboy's world people could end up in the hospital for reasons other than getting beaten by their fathers. It was okay. He shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes, felt bad about his flash of anger toward Pony, who was his best friend in many ways. Most ways.

"Let's go to my house," Pony said, not as a real option, and Johnny just went along, let the Curtis brothers feed him. He realized, as Darry cooked some chicken, whole chicken with stuffing, that he hadn't eaten for awhile. He didn't eat much, his stomach kind of sour, but enough.

Dally came back later that night, leaned into Johnny and said a low hello, then headed over to Darry. Johnny narrowed his eyes a bit and knew that he wouldn't be hanging out with Dal, not for tonight at least. It was weird, the juxtaposition of Dally and Darry, who were so different. Darry was the closest thing to an actual responsible adult that Johnny knew, and it freaked him out a little. Dally, wild, reckless, self centered, was more of what Johnny could understand. Dally made sense to him.

He watched, from the living room, as Darry grabbed two beers and handed one to Dal. Watched Dally tip his head back and take a long swallow, his blond hair falling back. White blond hair like a child, and Johnny sometimes couldn't stop staring at it. Ponyboy flipped through the T.V. channels, finally settling on some sports.

It just got later and later sort of slowly, and Johnny felt a little tired and very much that he didn't want to go home. Fuck his parents. Maybe he'd just never go home again. They wouldn't care anyway.


	14. Chapter 14

He was hanging out with Ponyboy, for tonight anyway. He hadn't hung around him too much lately, and it always amazed him, the things he talked about. He told him about books and the symbolic meanings of things in it, and he did that with movies, too. He'd never realized there were so many hidden meanings in things. Then he'd point out stuff, just little stuff like the way the car lights shined on some car hood, changing the color from blue to maroon.

"Look at that," Pony would say, and then Johnny would notice it, too.

They were at the lot, smoking, talking a little, but mostly they were just quiet. Johnny was thinking how he wasn't planning on going home anytime soon, maybe never. Then he'd feel guilty and long for his parents to be different, to care about him in some way. When his old man was hitting him that seemed to be the closest to caring he could get.

A blue mustang drove by, flashing their lights at them, honking the horn, and both boys scowled.

"What are they doing this far?" Ponyboy said, and noticed Johnny's pale color and shallow breathing. He gazed at the scar high on Johnny's cheek and wondered something. He knew it had been a blue mustang that the socs had been driving that day that Johnny got beat up.

"Hey, Johnny," he started, scared to mention that day because none of them ever talked about it. But he was still young, and curiosity sometimes overcame good judgment.

"Yeah?" Johnny said, looking off toward where the mustang had driven away.

"You know that day, that time the socs beat you up?"

Johnny looked at him quick, his eyes round. He nodded.

"Well, it was that blue mustang that just drove by, wasn't it?"

Johnny nodded again, lighting up another cigarette. He wished Pony would stop talking about it.

"Can you remember it? It's just, you were so out of it when we found you that I always kind of wondered if you remember it all?"

Johnny was quiet, thinking of it. He didn't remember all of it, it was like some bad beatings at his house, his mind kind of went somewhere else.

"Uh, sort of. I mean, I remember some it," he said, and then Ponyboy let it drop. Of all his friends, he knew, Johnny had the roughest life. It wasn't just the socs, because they were a problem for everyone. They were so rich and entitled, and they could have done that to any one of them, even Dally. You can't fight off four or five guys. But things were so bad for Johnny at home and he was so quiet, Ponyboy wanted to know what was going on inside his head sometimes. But Johnny would never open up. He kept it all in.

"You wanna go play pinball or something?" Ponyboy said, and Johnny shrugged and nodded. They took off for the pizza place that had the best pinball machine, and checked their pockets to make sure they had a few quarters.


End file.
